


A Casual Debriefing

by track_04



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, NewS (Band), Tackey & Tsubasa
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-15
Updated: 2009-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:36:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Massu takes a break from practice and Tsubasa decides to check in on him-- and his underwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Casual Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmonster/gifts).



> Inspired by Massu's article in May 2009's Potato, wherein he talked about how **Tsubasa gave him a pair of his underwear**. No, I am not even kidding. Originally written for Intergroup Unity month.

"Okay... time for a break," Yamapi calls out, waving his hand to signal a stop, one that the rest of his bandmates all gratefully obey.

Massu can feel sweat pooling along his collarbone as he stops, taking the towel from around his neck to swipe at his forehead. He watches the rest of his group grab waterbottles and sink gratefully onto chairs, or the floor, or wherever happens to be closest and most convenient, their expressions mirroring his own exhuastion. He enjoys learning new dance routines, looks forward to it, even, but that doesn't mean that it's by any means _easy_.

He grabs his own bottle of water and takes a healthy-sized drink as he heads for the door, leaving his bandmates draped across their chairs (or the floor or, in Tegoshi and Ryo's case, each other), intent on stretching his legs and getting a bit of fresh air while he can. Spending this much time in one of the dance studios with their lack of windows always leaves him feeling a bit pent up, the energy he has built up from dancing moving along restlessly beneath his skin, looking for an outlet. Walking it off is really the only way he's found to let it out that doesn't leave him tired and struggling through the rest of practice.

The sweat is just starting to dry against the nape of his neck when he feels someone grab him, not even giving him enough time to sputter a proper protest before they tug him into a practice room and shut the door behind them. He can hear the lock turning, the click of it almost deafening through the silence of the room as a hand shoves him up against the wall.

It's dark in the room, the thin strip of light filtering through the crack beneath the door not enough to give Massu any sort of sense of which room he's in or _who_ is in here with him. He takes a deep breath and remains perfectly still, his mouth dry and heart beating hard and fast, too stunned for the moment to do anything else. He feels the other person slide closer, pressing their chests together lightly.

He jumps at the contact, earning him a low chuckle as the still unknown person leans in closer, their breath tickling the shell of Massu's ear as they whisper, "Are you wearing them?"

Massu blinks, swallows, blinks again. His heart is still beating too fast, the sound of it echoing in his ears, but now for an entirely different reason. He closes his eyes and shivers, an emotion somewhere between relief and excitement washing over him. "Tsubasa?"

Another chuckle and Massu shivers again, his hand reaching out for Tsubasa's hip while the other's breath continues to blow hot and inviting against his ear. "I hope you're asking because you're surprised, and not because you do this with a lot of other people," Tsubasa murmurs, the low, familiar purr of his voice enough to make the air in the room feel heavy around them.

"Yes... I mean, no, I don't," Massu stammers, his breath hitching as Tsubasa slips a leg between his thighs, applying just enough pressure to be distracting. "You surprised me."

"Good," Tsubasa whispers, and Massu can hear his smile through the dark. He can feel Tsubasa's fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, sliding upwards just enough to play over the waistband of his sweatpants in a slow tease. "So... are you wearing them?"

"Yes," Massu breaths, a bit too turned on and too caught off-guard to be coy. He knows what Tsubasa is asking about, knows that the other wants to know if he's wearing the underwear he gave him-- Tsubasa's own underwear-- and he's got to admit he finds the other's interest more than a little hot. It makes it worth the slight twinge of embarrassment he'd felt that morning putting them on.

Tsubasa hums his approval, the sound oddly erotic, enough to make Massu squirm against the wall, his hips pressing forward against Tsubasa's thigh. He hears the other's sharp intake of breath at the obvious indication of just how much Massu is enjoying this pressed against his thigh and can't help but smile. Tsubasa is so reserved that he can't help but enjoy making the other lose control, even if it's only for a split second. Part of him suspects that Tsubasa likes to do the same thing to him, though, and the fact that Tsubasa's next move is to nip sharply at Massu's lower lip as he pushes his thigh forward, rubbing against Massu _just so_ , doesn't do much to change Massu's mind on the matter.

He groans, then, the sound loud against the stillness of the room as he leans forward to capture Tsubasa's lips with his own. The kiss is desperate and just shy of being sloppy--a bit too many teeth and a lot of tongue and far too loud--the way that most of their kisses seem to be, as if all the disorder that they forcefully push out of other aspects of their lives spills over into this one act, making it quick and dirty and everything that they themselves are not when the lights are on and there's anyone there to see but the two of them.

The kiss drags on, getting more and more heated, the soft scrape of teeth becoming nips and eventually turning into bites, until finally they have to break for air, their lips left swollen and feeling a little bruised. Massu feels Tsubasa's hands in his hair and doesn't quite remember when they got there, or how his own made their way into the back of Tsubasa's pants where they're currently cupping his ass like that's what they were made to do.

"Taka," Tsubasa groans, the sound a bit desperate as his fingers tug at Massu's hair hard enough to sting.

Massu shudders and leans in, mouthing the side of Tsubasa's neck, tracing a path against his skin as he tightens his grip and pulls the other's hips forward, grinding them together. He can feel Tsubasa's belt buckle digging into his stomach as they move, but he ignores it, the slight sting just enough to offset the pleasure from the friction he's getting off Tsubasa's clothed erection rubbing against his own.

He nips lightly at Tsubasa's neck and earns a whimper, the sound making his composure slip further away from him, forcing his hips to snap forward against the other's. He can feel Tsubasa starting to come undone in his arms, all harsh breathing and thrusting hips, and he lets himself be pulled along for the ride. He stops thinking and lets his hands do what they've been itching to do since Tsubasa leaned in and whispered in his ear and reaches between them to make short work of the older man's belt, unsure if the soft groans that he can hear are coming from Tsubasa or himself or both. Tsubasa's fly is next, his fingers flying over the buttons in smooth, familiar motions.

The lack of fumbling, even in the dark, probably says something about just how often Massu's fingers have undone this particular set of buttons, he thinks, but there's no one here to see but the two of them, so it doesn't really matter.

After a few seconds that seem to drag on for hours, Tsubasa's pants and underwear are finally around his ankles and out of the way, and Massu is able to slide a hand between them and wrap it around the other's cock with a stiffled moan. Tsubasa gasps and suddenly strong, slender hands are pushing at Massu's waist, forcing his pants and underwear down to his thighs. There's barely time to register the cool air of the room against his erection before Tsubasa's fingers are around him, forcing a sound from his throat that is closer to a grunt than a moan. He finds Tsubasa's lips through the dark again then, kissing him roughly as he loses himself in the familiar feel of Tsubasa's hand, the practiced twists of the other's wrist enough to make sparks dance behind his eyelids.

Tsubasa, for his part, seems to be enjoying his side of things just as much, if the way his hips are thrusting into Massu's touch are any indication.

"Tsubasa," Massu groans a moment later, the word edged with a warning as he feels the pleasure growing, coiling in his gut and making his toes want to curl.

Tsubasa's grip on him tightens, his wrist giving another expert twist, and Massu has just enough coherency left to hear his name fall from the other's lips as his climax hits him, and he arches his back against the wall, spilling his seed over Tsubasa's hand and other places that he's too caught up in the moment to care about.

It takes him a moment to remember how to breathe again, but when he does Tsubasa has his face pressed against his neck, making low, needy noises that would make him want to pin the other to the floor and give him exactly what he wants if he hadn't just come two seconds ago. He settles on tightening his hand around the other's cock instead, working it over him quickly, with just an edge of roughness, the way that he knows the other likes it. Tsubasa groans and buries his face against Massu's shoulder, his hands moving to clutch at Massu's shirt as he thrusts forward, too close to bother with rhythm.

Massu tightens his grip, squeezes the other just so, and then suddenly Tsubasa's coming hot and fast over his hand, letting out a muffled cry that's just loud enough to have Massu hoping that no one happens to be walking by at that exact moment. Massu strokes him until he softens and holds him close, breathing in his scent as they both wait for their shivering to subside.

It's only once they've come back to themselves and realize how dirty and slightly uncomfortable they are that they pull apart. Massu can hear Tsubasa fumbling for a moment before the lights suddenly flicker to life, making him squint against the sudden brightness. He turns his head to find the other standing mere inches away, half-naked and still flushed, squinting back at him.

Their eyes meet and they both start to laugh, the sound soft and affectionate and just a little embarrassed. They share a grin before Tsubasa leans forward and brushes his lips against Massu's in a chaste kiss, wrinkling his nose when he pulls away. "You're dirty."

"Whose fault is that?" Massu asks, laughing softly because he's can't help but wrinkle his own nose as his eyes drift down to take in the state of Tsubasa's shirt.

"Both of ours, I'd say." Tsubasa echoes his laugh and pulls away to grab a container of wet wipes out of his bag. He offers them to Massu and they clean their hands and stomachs and do the best they can with their clothing in companionable silence before they start to redress.

Tsubasa reaches out as Massu is pulling up his pants and helps him, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he spots his underwear.

Massu catches the look and laughs, wishing briefly that he didn't have dance practice waiting for him. "Next time, I think I should give you a pair of my underwear to wear."

Tsubasa laughs, his cheeks flushing with something that Massu has come to recognize as excitement. "Deal... but only if it's that blue pair that I like."

Massu laugh and nods and makes a mental note to slip his that particular pair of underwear into his gym bag the next morning.


End file.
